


Queen of Hearts

by C_Inferno



Category: Love Live! School Idol Festival (Video Game), Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Mild Language, catch me with my garasu references, use of the fuck word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Inferno/pseuds/C_Inferno
Summary: Rewind to when Mari first returns to Uranohoshi. An unresolved issue emerges after all the smiles and pleasantries fade: Why didn't Dia stand up for Mari's feelings way back when. Mari can't help but be angry, but she doesn't realize how badly words can hurt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a mishmosh of POVs that change indiscriminately between Dia and Mari.

Dia clutches her heart, frozen in utter despair. Mari’s words are like a knife. "You're right,” she chokes. Her whole body trembles violently and she’s certain that her knees are going to buckle any minute. “I did nothing…I could’ve said something but—

The guilt just crashes over her. Mari had every right to be furious with her, but hearing it, _feeling_ that anger flying out of Mari’s mouth as it pierced her chest—she couldn’t take it. She doesn’t wait to hear the rest of what Mari had to say. Dia turns on her heels and bolts out the door of the student council room, covering her mouth both because she doesn’t want anybody to see her sobbing but also because she feels like she’s going to throw up.

Mari stares at the spot where Dia was standing. She doesn’t feel better. It hurts worse, but she’s so angry. _Don’t pretend like you ever cared about me_. Tears well up in her eyes as she realizes what she’s said. She lingers in the moment, her hands gripping the back of her director’s chair. It doesn’t register as the chair clatters on the floor, as papers fly off the desk from a rabid swipe of her arm. She throws her bookbag as hard as she can at the wall, causing the contents to explode into the room and scatter all along the floor. Mari sinks to her knees, feeling like the weight of her body is pulling her down onto the ground itself.

All she can do is cry.

She pushes the thoughts in the far recesses of her mind and it feels like she’s cramming them into little jars and collecting them on a shelf. She wishes she could bottle her heart and abandon it here too. Even if it was broken into pieces, at least it’d all be together. At least the shards wouldn’t be buried in far away places, lost in time or clutched in the hands of people that would only ever run away with them.

 

Tomorrow is another day. She leaves her things in the student council room. They’ll still be there in the morning and she doesn’t care if it means Dia will have to clean up her mess. As far as Mari is concerned, it’s Dia’s fault to begin with. She locks the door and heads home.

Dia, on the other hand, keeps running. She pushes through the door before Mari or anyone else can stop her. The final bell has long since rang, so there’s nobody in her path. No faces to hide from or concerned hands to reach out for her. To touch her.

She doesn’t know where she’s going--she doesn’t care. All she focuses on is her heavy, clumsy footfalls and the fire in her legs from pushing her body into moving faster than it was built to. The only place she wants to be is far, far away. Sometime after realizing where her feet are taking her, however, she sees Kanan’s house emerge in the distance.

Kanan isn’t surprised to see her, nor is she particularly reactive when Dia weakly beats her fist on her shoulder. Trembling, Dia tries to yell at Kanan, but her roar is soft and strangled by tears. “Why did you make me do this to her?” For once, Kanan’s eyes betray nothing that she’s feeling. “Why did I let you ruin everything?”

There’s little to no power in both Dia’s voice and her punches. Even a wayward slap seems to slide right off Kanan’s cheek without causing her to budge an inch. It’s not that Dia wants to hurt her, she just can’t stand being so weak.

When Kanan wraps her arms around Dia, she jolts immediately from her warmth, but the familiar scent of salt and lavender settles her nerves and she reciprocates the advance.

Kanan runs her fingers through Dia’s hair, her nails grazing Dia’s scalp soothingly but it doesn't keep her from sobbing. She receives gentle shushes and even a kiss to her forehead, with Kanan's lips leaving a pool of heat in their wake. The reassuring drum of Kanan’s heartbeat quiets her sniffling, but even in the throes of recovery, Kanan holds her tightly. Lost in the lullaby of their embrace, Dia closes  her eyes and smiles..

“She'll forgive you eventually.”

And just like that, Dia’s composure falls to pieces. It isn't right. Kanan’s warmth, her kindness and affection--she doesn't deserve any of it.

“No,” she mewls, pushing a confused Kanan away from her. “We ruined her life.” A volatile concoction of emotions swirl in Dia’s gut and she hates herself for loving the way Kanan holds her. She doesn't deserve to have what she stole from Mari. Tears well in her eyes. “I didn't protect her feelings.”

“You protected her future,” Kanan offers but Dia doesn't hear her words. She grips at Kanan’s shirt sleeves and tries to forget the security of Kanan’s embrace, the pizzicato rhythm of her heart and the ghost of her lips on Dia’s skin. “Come on, Dia. Do you want to spend the night? We can sleep in my bed if you need it.”

“I'll be fine. I'm going to go home now. I'm sure Ruby is wondering where I am.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

“I want you to leave me alone for a few days.”

Kanan’s eyes flicker with an unexpected hurt. “O-oh.”

Without another word or regard for the melancholic manner in which Kanan drops her shoulders, Dia turns on her heels and begins a slow walk in the direction of her home.

But she has no intention of going there.

 

Tomorrow rolls around and Mari drags herself to school, certain to arrive early enough that she doesn’t have to fake smiles and pretend she cares about anyone right now. She reaches the student council room door in no time, but she can’t bring herself to open the door quiet yet. Mari knows what’s on the other side.

She puts her ear to the door, searching for the way Dia taps her pen when she's in thought or the reserved humming of a Muse song. When she hears nothing, Mari jiggles the handle and finds it's still locked from the day before. She turns her key and pushes in the door to find the room exactly as she had left it. The hollowed carcass of her rucksack still sprawled out on the floor accompanied by the chaotic splatter of papers, pens and books. The chair hadn't been righted either, which prompts Mari to reexamine the time on her phone. Dia is late.

Dia is never late.

She hadn't considered that Dia would have been so wounded by her words that she wouldn't come to school. Mari endures a pang of guilt, but asserts to her reflection in the window that she has every right to be angry.

But it's unsettling being in the room entirely by herself. She expects every second that Dia will simply appear beside her and thumb through papers with the robotic focus she prides herself on. The room is too quiet. Too still. She can't focus on her work and there is plenty of it, especially for a single person. Mari sighs, creating the only sound in what might as well be the entire universe, and gets to work. Maybe if she tries hard enough she can forget the way she feels and the ugly, grief stricken contortion of Dia’s face. If she steels herself the echo of the horrible things she said might finally fade.

She relives everything a hundred times or more.

A knock at the door silences the tumultuous thoughts long enough that there's a bubble of excitement in Mari’s chest. She feigns the most proper, inviting tone she can muster with the subconscious hope that it's Dia.

“Come in,” she nearly sings. Her bubble bursts when she's met with the worried faces of her second year companions: Riko, Chika and You.

They haven't even all filed in when Chika glances around and murmurs “she's really not here,” despondently. Mari straightens her posture to combat the sinking feeling in her gut.

“Can I help you two?”

Chika has never looked so serious before and her eyes are uncomfortably penetrating. There is no way for her to know what exactly happened, but somehow she looks like she knows.

“Ruby got a text that Dia was going to spend the night with Kanan, but Kanan said she left almost right after she got there. No one has seen her since.”

“Oh.”

Not at all the confrontational type, Riko shifts anxiously in preparation for her words. “Um…” She couldn't look Mari in the eyes. “Kanan said you guys had a fight.”

Mari’s first reaction is to deflect. “It sounds like you should be talking to Kanan.” She doesn't intend for the callousness of her tone, but whatever. Mari hadn't intended for a lot of things to happen yet here she is. She notices the twitch in the corner of Chika’s jaw and perhaps so does You because immediately the aspiring sailor steps forward.

“We just wanted to hear your side of the story.” You is as impressive of a diplomat as she is a seamstress, weaving her words artfully and without a hint of accusation. “I'm sure you're as worried as we are. Ruby is beside herself...she got one text from Dia saying that she was ok, but she won't answer her phone. Kanan didn't tell her about your fight, but she's going to find out.”

Mari’s guts twist themselves into tight knots. Papers crinkle in her grip and she thinks for a moment that she should've just stayed home. It isn't fair. Why wasn't Mari allowed to be angry? So what if her feelings shattered the fragile façade Dia lived behind? Because Dia couldn't handle the truth it made Mari a bad person? Where were these second years to crucify Kanan and Dia when they had abandoned her? Where was the little sister to mourn her absence?

“What are you going to tell Ruby? How are you going to defend yourself?”

“ _Excuse me_?” Heat pools in Mari’s chest and the longer Chika glares at her the angrier she becomes. It's evident by Riko’s uneasy fidgeting and You’s readiness to intervene at any time that Chika is prepared for confrontation.

“Kanan said that Dia looked horrible when she came over. What did you say to her, Mari?” The lack of honorifics is the last straw.

“I told her the truth!” she snarls, hurling the stack of papers across the desk at Chika. “I told her she was the worst person on the face of the earth for pretending like she ever gave a shit about me and letting Kanan destroy our relationship. She didn't stick up for me. Nobody sticks up for me! And now I have one fucking feeling and it's too much for her?! Well too fucking bad! I _reminded_ her that she never did anything to protect me and because of her I lost two good years of my life! I hate her! I really, really hate her!”

The papers settle and the air is still between the two parties. Mari’s shoulders are heaving and she realizes she's crying again. Everything hurts so bad; she wants to rip her heart out of her chest and crush it between her fingers. Anything to quell the ache.

“It's not fair,” she whimpers, trying to hide in her hands. “Why am I not allowed to be upset? Why doesn't anybody care about how I feel...how I felt in that helicopter watching the town I love and my two best friends shrink in the distance. I didn't want that. I don't want this.”

“I'm sorry, Mari-chan,” Chika begins morosely, but at least she doesn't appear angry anymore. “We can't say anything about what happened then, but we know that Dia cares about you. A lot. It makes me mad that you would say those things, but what's important now is we find where she went. This is all a big mess and we need to clean it up. ”

“I agree with Chika-chan. Is there any place she might go?”

Mari thinks of only one place, but she doesn't want to be right. She shrugs her shoulders, unable to look at the second years a moment longer. At least they seem to be aware that they've exhausted all the willingness Mari had to speak with them and start towards the door.

Chika, the last out, turns while halfway out of the room. “Dia-san is important to me and so are you, Mari-chan. Please take care of each other.”

The door clicks shut and Mari is welcomed into another void of silence, left to contemplate the day and her words, the feelings she tries to defend but finds no more reason to hold to. She reads the same line on the document in her trembling hand over and over again, unable to focus on the contents...the jumble of letters that blur beneath the tears in her eyes.

Fuck this.

Fuck this shit.

She pushes from her desk, restrained only for a fleeting moment by the persuasive obligation she has to remain where she is so that at least some work can get done. The school can survive without one of them, but not both of them. Then again...what good is she here? She gives the stack of documents a mournful glance but decides to abandon the whole thing. There’s nobody of importance to notify, nobody that she cares enough about at least. Mari only hopes that Chika isn’t anywhere that she can see her because she doesn’t think she can withstand the thought of acknowledging that this is her mess to clean up.

“Oh...Mari-chan.”

Mari freezes in her tracks and her heart hits her ribcage like a crash test dummy--she can almost hear tires screeching and metal crunching when she turns to meet Ruby in the hallway.

“Hello, Ruby.” God, she can’t even force any happiness in her tone and the words fall like shards of ice from her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Hanamaru-chan needed me to bring her so books so I was heading to the library. Um…” the way she fidgets makes Mari feel disgusting. “H-have you seen Dia at all today?”

“No, I haven’t,” she replies earnestly. “But, I’m going to go look for her.”

“Really?!” The relief in Ruby’s voice kills her. Mari can’t look at her anymore. “I bet she’ll be happy to see you. Whatever’s wrong with her, I’m sure you’ll be able to cheer her up.”

“Yeah.”

Deep in her mind, a desperate plea for forgiveness forms but she can’t allow it to exist outside of herself. She doesn’t want Ruby’s excited smile to falter or turn to hatred. Her goodbye is clunky and rushed, but she has to get away from Ruby’s smothering praise. Please don’t look at me like that, she thinks with a sickening swirl in her entrails.

The outside air cools her skin and helps to dry the sweat in her palms. She thinks she knows where Dia might be, and it’s going to be a very long walk. Mari briefly fantasizes about all those American dramas where the man chases after the girl he loves, but her feet are too heavy to do anything but drag. Besides, Mari isn’t a starry eyed romantic. She’s just a miserable bitch.

Without Chika’s probing glower to trigger her defense mechanisms, Mari succumbs to the guilt of her words. She hears the ‘I hate you” like the splitting blare of an ambulance siren. They’re not words she meant. They’re a misfire. A bullet she didn’t even know was in the chamber.

It’s not Dia’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. She smiles weakly. They’re just stupid girls in love with love.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun remains fairly high in the sky by the time she rounds the corner to her house. The hotel looms over her like a stern parent chastising her for mistreating her friends. Sighing, she walks along the concrete path until circumnavigating the building. Never let it be said that Mari Ohara can’t read Dia like an open book.

 

Mari finds her on the pier that her bedroom overlooks and she doesn’t respond as she approaches. She sits on the old wood with her knees pulled to her chest, staring out into the ocean. Her hair is messy and clearly battered from the sea salt that sprays occasionally from the sides of the pier. She hasn’t slept all night and Mari has never seen Dia’s hair look so comically wild. A poorly timed giggle escapes her. When Dia turns to meet her with puffy red eyes, Mari wishes she could eat that fucking giggle.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

They speak at the same time, surprising one another. Mari is particularly astonished by the hoarseness of Dia’s voice, but Dia is the one that continues.

 

“Don’t apologize. You were right. I was a horrible friend and you have every right to hate me. I shouldn’t have even come here, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’m horrible. I’m worthless.”

 

Mari can’t take it. Dia breathes with full intentions to continue her self deprecating soliloquy but Mari drops to her knees and takes Dia into her arms. Dia fails to withstand the force of Mari’s embrace and falls backwards, leaving them on the ground entangled in one another.  

 

Overcome with everything she has felt thus far, Mari buries her face in the crook of Dia’s neck and sobs. “The only horrible person is the one that said those things to you, and I won’t let her get away with it. I’m sorry, Dia. I’m so sorry.”

 

Dia is taken aback, barely able to return Mari’s gesture in part because she can’t believe it but also because she’s straining to keep herself upright with her arms. She stares off into the blue sky, not really looking at it but somehow losing herself in the vast expanse. Mari’s warmth brings her to life. Unlike Kanan’s embrace, it’s not poisoned with robotic apologies and guilty pleasures. She doesn’t hate herself between Mari’s arms.

 

They stay like that for what Dia hopes will be an eternity, but eventually Mari draws away from her, her smile heavenly and tinged with the sincerest amount of pain. “I can’t believe you’ve been here the entire time.”

 

“You need better security,” Dia said with breathy laughter. She feels Mari’s hands slip around her back and before she can process anything more, Mari hoists her off the ground as naturally as one would a basket of laundry. “Wh-what are you doing?”

 

“Salt is bad for your hair. I know you like hanging out on my dock but how about a bath?”

 

Dia is too ashamed to admit how wonderful a bath sounds. Her whole body is exhausted, not just from crying but from running herself ragged getting here. She isn’t even aware of how messed up her hair is until Mari points it out.

 

Luckily there is nobody to see Mari carry Dia bridal style all the way from the front door, up several flights of stairs and to her room, impressing Dia not only with her commitment but her physical fortitude. 

 

“You can put me down,” she says once they reach the door to Mari’s room. 

 

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I have to,” Mari replies, propping up her right knee so she can distribute Dia’s body evenly across it and her left hand to free up her other hand to open the door.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Ridiculously talented, you mean.”

 

They’ve taken baths before, so there’s nothing new about Mari’s body. It’s just skin. Just a bare collarbone, bare shoulders, a bare back.  Certainly nothing to get worked up over. Of course, all it takes is watching Mari’s fingers unhook her bra before she is ready to flee the hotel at a reserved pace. 

 

Mari starts the water and helps Dia undress herself, which Dia insists is unnecessary. Every time Mari’s fingers make contact with her skin, Dia’s neurons fire at an alarming rate. She's glad to submerse herself in the hot water but entertains a mild concern that the heat of her body will cause the bath to boil over.  

 

Their bodies touch in spite of the spacious porcelain bath. Mari is synonymous with extravagance and luxury, a lifestyle not alien to Dia but one that she has never seen at its full potential. The bathroom itself isn't what Dia expects from a hotel of even this grandeur; her entire bedroom probably fits inside of it. It's lain with shimmering white tiles that give the room a soft, angelic vibe and Dia wonders how anything could look so clean.

 

Her thoughts are interrupted by Mari’s fingers finding their way to her scalp. 

 

“Sorry,” she says when Dia flinches. “I just figured we’d better get the salt out of your hair.”

“Good idea,” Dia replies, slowly leaning into Mari’s touch. She’s glad they aren’t facing one another so Mari can’t see the obvious hues of red on her cheeks. Placed beside the brilliant whites of Mari’s bathroom, Dia would look like a cherry tomato on the floor.

 

She’d forgotten what it felt like to have somebody wash her hair. Mari worked the shampoo into Dia’s hair with feathery touches, carefully eases the knots out with her nails. There were plenty of them, Dia realized, and not even Mari’s gentleness could prevent the occasional snag.

 

“Sorry,” she says again, this time with a light giggle. “That ocean did a number on you.”

 

Dia tries not to think about sobbing on the peer, the splashing saltwater mixing with the taste of her own tears. She doesn’t want to think of the waves drowning her voice and carrying off her sorrows where no one, not even Kanan and her scuba gear, could find them. “Yeah.”

 

Mari surprised her by wrapping her arms around her midsection and resting her cheek on her back. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me, Dia.”

 

The pang of guilt in Dia’s chest shakes her. It’s worse than ocean waves and all the salt in her eyes. “I still did.”

 

“You thought you were doing the right thing.”

 

“I thought wrong.”

 

“Dia, I’m telling you it’s ok. Out of everyone, you cared about my feelings the most. I realize that now, and I’m sorry for all of those horrible things I said to you. They weren’t fair.”

 

“They were well deserved.”

 

Mari’s grip tightened. “Dia, please. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I can’t stand the way I felt yesterday. I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.”

 

Dia doesn’t know how to respond, but Mari draws away and continues massaging the shampoo in Dia’s hair. She focuses on the scents--the coconut undertones are the strongest. Mari’s fingers graze her scalp with a little more force and Dia shivers. She feels tears welling in her eyes and once again she’s glad that Mari can’t see her face. She’s tired of crying.


End file.
